


Dinner Date

by freakvzoid



Category: Original Work
Genre: Awkward Dates, Cannibalism, Gen, Implied Body Horror, Implied Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Minor Character Death, Monsters, Murder, Sort of? - Freeform, it counts enough to tag, very short so not a lot of tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25910812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakvzoid/pseuds/freakvzoid
Summary: Jolie just wanted most of her nights to be nice. She wanted to have a nice time.Jolie was not having a nice time with the man sitting next to her.
Kudos: 1





	Dinner Date

Jolie didn’t care for extravagance.

You see, Jolie had dealt with many men who tried to buy her tender heart with fancy gifts and lovely nights out, while not caring to see what she truly wanted.

Though, maybe, she didn’t know what she truly wanted. She was smarter than she cared to let on, but the ghosts of her past weighed heavy on her. They often found their way back on the worst days, worming their way into her fried brain, forcing chills up her spine. Perhaps her luck with men had something to do with those chills, as they always returned when she looked into a man’s eyes. It was as if she looked into their very souls, and maybe, they trailed behind her trying to get them back.

...Jolie didn’t ask for extravagance, either.

And while she didn’t know all that she wanted, she knew she wanted a nice night out. Jolie just wanted most of her nights to be  _ nice.  _ She wanted to have a nice time.

Jolie was not having a nice time with the man sitting next to her.

She wasn’t picky with her men. She didn’t care how a man looked, as long as they gave her what she needed. What she needed that night was a pick-me-up, an at-least-passable-time after a sleepless night before. What this man provided was a dump of a place at the edge of town whose patrons were too loud and too irritable. 

He was decently attractive, but he had a smoker’s cough, a smoker’s voice. His pack of cigarettes was kept in his pocket, and throughout the night, he obsessively checked to assure himself it was still there. He was funny for the first ten minutes until he ordered a beer; he was a lot less funny from then on. She stopped laughing around the time he joked about following her into the bathroom and really stopped laughing when he kept making passes at the bartender. Jolie avoided the other woman’s gaze for most of the night.

At his fourth beer, Jolie knew the night wasn’t going to get better. She rested a hand on his own, and in a soft voice, said, “Why don’t we get out of here? It’s a bit stuffy.” Jolie knew, despite his glazed eyes, that he couldn’t resist that voice -- no man could. (Not that she was bragging or anything.)

“I’ll take you anywhere,” was his response, slurred and clumsy.

Outside, he nearly manhandled her into his car, before she, calmly, suggested they walk. Jolie was much smarter than he wanted to think. And though he huffed and grumbled, when she pointed out a shortcut to her favorite bar, he followed. 

She walked in front of him, confident of the way and desperate to do something  _ fun.  _ When the alleyway became unfamiliar, though, she slowed, until the two of them were walking in tandem. The only lights were faint, from surrounding windows, and the scenery seemed to shift around them. Jolie shuddered and drew closer to her date, leaning against him. The action felt devoid of any romance. All-too-quickly, he broke away from her. 

“We should leave,” he said, and Jolie realized he was smarter than she wanted to think, too. “It’s not too far back. This place is giving me the creeps.” As he turned to walk off, he reached for her hand. But--

She saw it, sickening, darkening red flowing from a gash on the back of his neck. Whatever had done it must have moved too fast for her to see, and any sound she heard was from him. A strangled cry that he could barely muster before he crumpled onto the ground in a heap. Jolie’s hands shook as she approached him as if she were in slow motion; he still breathed, his eyes focused on her, widening in fear. He breathed shallow breaths, every muscle in his body struggling, yet he couldn’t move. 

And wasn’t it odd? How he shook as she drew closer? How every second he looked at her, he tried to scream, even as his throat wouldn’t allow it? 

Even though she was only trying to help.

Even though she was only trying to end his miserable existence!

Claws erupted from her fingertips, in tune with her other hand, which was already armed and had already scratched. Jolie’s transformation was always hard for outsiders to stomach, but they never concerned themselves with how she felt about it. The human spine she wore in that form broke under the pressure of her tail, and she winced as it snapped itself back into place. Such pain dulled with enough repetition, but some sort of concern would be nice, wouldn’t it?

Then again, one’s capacity for concern surely ran low when they were paralyzed.

Kneeling beside him, her teeth shined in her wide grin before she could stop herself -- because no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t scream, and he wouldn’t scream again. Jolie felt her face become warm as she looked into eyes agape with fear.

Jolie was never one for conversation or lengthy explanations in a situation like this, so intimate and personal. She wasn’t the type.

They never needed to scream, either, or plead for their wretched lives. It was enough for her poor, fragile, ladylike heart to know that her grinning face would be etched into their brains until they die. Even better to know that it would be burned into their very souls when they pass on! It was the simple pleasures that kept Jolie going, to be sure. 

Separating joint from joint, she thought,  _ really, he owes me for such a crappy night out.  _ Jolie didn’t care for extravagance, and she never asked for it, but she knew deserved more than a dingy, smoke-filled bar. His blood tasted of deception that ran deeper than a simple bad date; a rotten flavor that she was tired of tasting. She thought,  _ really, he should be thanking me.  _ When his bones were picked clean, she happily grabbed a few for her midnight snack later -- the crunch was like no other.

Her eyes idly scanned what remained of him. His lungs tasted like smoke, and she had nearly left them behind, but Jolie knew better. It would be wrong of her to waste food, even if the food was a waste in life. The only things that remained were bones and clothes. With a scoff, Jolie snatched the pack of cigarettes and lighter from his pocket. She lit one to rid her tastebuds of him.

Tomorrow, the back door of the alley will open, and a poor worker will think the remains fake, all flesh, blood, and meat stripped of them until the head is found half-eaten in the dumpster. The worker will scream. Their parts of the city will be buzzing, briefly, with fear, before forgetting the nobody’s name entirely and moving on. The police will dismiss it as an animal attack, with no fingerprints or any sign of human life at the scene.

And Jolie, calling her next date, will laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> i've had my ao3 account for about...2-3 years?? and never posted anything so i'm gonna go ahead and do that, even if it's just weird oc stuff  
> also, it doesn't really count as cannibalism cause she's not human, the tag is just to be safe! idk how to tag "monster woman eating a man" without spoiling a very short story. 
> 
> if you're somehow reading this, thanks! happy scrolling!


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